Blood on a Knife
by BlackBird'292
Summary: A ruined world. A corrupt city, filled with gangs and people on the brink of despair. Blood is spilled daily in dark alleyways. And yet, in the midst of all this it is said that the shadowy assassins, the "Shur'tugal"... live once again. AU.


Ooh, Brisingr is out.

But I still have to wait a frikin' ten days or so before I can get a copy myself… damn. Because most of my other short stories have to do with how things turn out in the third book, I'll be stopping them before I read it.

So, this is the story I've decided to post out for now. I wrote it about three months ago, and I just let it gather dust there. Thought I'd see what you'd all think about it :) .

Enjoy.

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It was a cold night, with the full moon shining brightly overhead as the lone truck sped down the highway. The scene seemed serene, as far as scenes in this city went; but things in this city aren't always what they seem like to be.

A maroon haired man sat in his seat and stared at the images before him intently. There was no failing this particular mission. No losses were acceptable. His men would get the object that he needed, swiftly and silently, without drawing any attention. That was the only way this was going to happen, and he was going to make sure of it.

There was a buzz from the transceiver. "They're moving in. In numbers much more than I had imagined, these Urgals."

"If you can, please tell those detestable criminals one last time that they shall do as they're told, with none of their silly improvisations." The man muttered. "If they don't do it as they were told to…"

"Roger that, sir."

He crossed his arms and continued to stare at the screens. As his subordinate had said, the Urgals' vehicles were steadily nearing the truck's rear. Strangely, the passengers did not seem to detect this, and the truck continued forward at the same speed as before. Very unusual.

The man ran a hand through his blood-red hair, deep in thought. It wasn't right. He had fought their kind before, and they weren't the type to not notice an assault of this size. There was no doubt that they were aware of what was happening.

Then his sharp eyes fixed upon something almost indiscernible on one of the screens.

_Of course._

Two of the cars, marked with the signature horns of the Urgal Gang, careened off the road as if they'd suddenly lost control.

His lips twitched into something close to a smile. This was going to be an interesting night.

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Gabriel winced as the strong winds threatened to toss him off the truck. Steadying the rifle he held in his arms, he aimed at his next target.

The gunshot rang throughout the night, and another car swerved off to the left as its driver dropped dead in the front seat. Another bullet was slid into the chamber, and the prone sniper gritted his teeth as he stared through the telescopic sight.

A voice came through a hazy burst of static. "Hey, Gabriel! Is everything still okay?"

"Shut it, Fabian." muttered Gabriel into the hand held radio. "I'm trying to concentrate up here."

"It's just a few of those worthless Urgals. Nothing that is of worry to the great Gabriel, eh?"

Another gunshot. Gabriel swore as the car he was aiming at moved just in time to avoid the deadly projectile. "Damn it. Because of you, I wasted another one of my babies."

"My apologies." There was a chuckle. "But as someone sai—"

"Holy crap!"

Gabriel ducked his head as a few wild pistol shots flew over him. Still swearing, he looked over the rim and responded with a blast of his own.

"What happened?" asked Fabian.

"Bastards caught me by surprise. Won't happen again." Gabriel reset the stock against his shoulder and looked through it after he adjusted the sight slightly. "But this is strange. The Urgals don't travel in groups as large as these. This is unheard of."

"I know. Any ideas that you have?"

"No. But I can tell you this; they're too well armed. Something or someone is behind this. Normally, they should have scattered right after I pulled out my rifle."

Fabian laughed on the other end of the transceiver. "Like cockroaches, hmm?"

"Yes indeed. And tell our princess to drive faster. It's not really possible, but there is a small possibility that the Urgals are after our cargo. Also, we've got to get to our destination before—shit, is that what I think it is?"

"Think is what?"

"Where the in the name of holy did they get a fuckin' helicopter!"

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His calm face never betraying the anger he felt inside, the man with crimson hair quietly ordered the pilot to lower the craft a bit more.

Never trust those damn gangsters to do a job that was clearly out of their reach. They were worthless, not even serving to be a good distraction. Now that they had no chance of obtaining the object, he would have to go himself, regardless of the cost.

The pilot blinked at his request. "But sir! We've got clear orders from above that—"

In an instant, a handgun was pressed to the back of his head. "Do it. I'll deal with those orders later."

The man gulped and did as he was told. The helicopter steadily began to descend.

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Shutting his mouth and cleaning all other thoughts away, Gabriel observed the aircraft with a calculating eye.

_Black… sleek… near silent. Definitely something that belongs to the government. Why do the Urgals have something like this?_

He frowned. It was risky, but he would have to stay up here for the time being. After all, someone had to know what was happening.

Then he heard it. The sound of a silenced gun spitting out a bullet.

Blood streamed down his shoulder. He had to bite on his tongue to keep himself from screaming bloody murder. Cursing, he spared a glance back up.

A person was standing near the door with a pistol in hand. A person with hair as red as blood.

His eyes widened. _No, not his kind! No…!_

"Gabriel! What happened! Are you all right?" Fabian climbed up onto the top of the truck, his face filled with concern.

Gabriel whipped his head around to face his friend and screamed, "You idiot! Get back down, before—"

He never completed the sentence. The bullet went clean through torso and his body crumpled like a puppet whose strings have been cut. His rifle clattered down onto the highway below them.

Fabian wanted to scream. He wanted to shout out Gabriel's name, and scramble over to his corpse and hold it. He wanted to cry.

But that was for later.

Taking out his gun in a swift movement, he loosened three shots at the helicopter. The crimson haired man simply slid inside slightly, and returned fire. Fabian avoided the shots with difficulty.

"Come down, you coward!" He yelled over the tremendous noise. "Come down and prove that you're what I think you are!"

In response, the man simply _jumped_ down from the helicopter and onto the truck. With a cold smile, he threw away his pistol and gestured for Fabian to do the same.

Fabian grinned and did so, not even sparing a glance to the falling gun. "Come on. No tricks this time, you goddamned _Shade_."

In a blur of movement, the man was before him, with an attack aimed towards his neck. Only experience saved him from being defeated on the spot.

Blocking the strike, Fabian twisted around and swept his feet toward the shade's legs. The Shade chuckled as he dodged it.

"Beautiful. I have seen few fighters like you. It will be a waste to kill you so quickly, and in a place where no one can see."

Fabian glided backwards and fell into a stance. "Overconfident bastard. If I—"

A bloody hand erupted out from the other side of his stomach. He coughed blood.

The shade pulled his arm out of Fabian's body with little effort, and shook his hand to rid himself of the crimson liquid. He paid no more attention to the body choking on the top of the truck as he climbed down and flipped himself into the seat beside the driver.

The woman did not even spare a glance at him as she concentrated on the road. "You defeated Fabian."

Her voice was low and controlled. The Shade laughed.

"Your companion still lives yet for a while. And if you wish he dies a swift and painless death, give me what I want. You know what it is."

"You expect me to just give it to you?" The woman still didn't glance his way.

"Why, yes. Please do so, as it will be beneficial to the both of us."

"I refuse." A blade gleamed in her hand, its light illuminating her beautiful face. With calculated precision, it went for his heart like a silver arrow.

"Ugh!"

The Shade avoided it just in time. Twisting his hand around, he grasped the woman's hands and in a few deft movements the knife was his.

"I underestimated you." He breathed.

"People tend to do so."

"But that will not change your situation. Nothing will. Now hand it over." He placed the knife point on her neck, drawing a drop of blood.

The truck was now on a narrow bridge. The dark waters below shimmered in the dim lighting. The hired gangsters had long since given up on the chase, and all was silent except for the wheels of the truck, and the helicopter overhead.

"Where is it?" He pressed.

A hint of a smile appeared on her face, tinged with grief. "You're too late." She said softly.

The Shade frowned. "What?"

"You will know soon enough."

"Stop speaking in riddles. Where is it? I will give you three seconds."

The truck continued forward, with the helicopter following. A sense of anxiety began to grow in the Shade's stomach. Something wasn't right.

"One." Sweat began to gather at his forehead. There was something wrong. Something out of his calculations.

No reply.

"Two."

Nothing.

"Three."

The truck was nearing the end of the bridge. It was then the Shade understood.

"That bastard!" he cursed.

Without another word, the Shade jabbed swiftly at the base of the woman's neck. Carrying the unconscious body with him, he climbed back onto the top of the vehicle and looked around.

The dead sniper was still there, blood pooling around him. But the person he had dueled with earlier was gone. Gone into the river as they had passed on the bridge. There was no chance to catch him now in this lighting. And any more movements would betray their motives to the public.

He contained his rage and pulled out his transceiver.

"We have failed to obtain what we came for. Destroy the witnesses." He said coldly.

"Witnesses? Sir, you don't mean—"

"The Urgals. Obliterate them. Leave not one trace of them behind."

Standing on the still moving truck, the Shade looked up to the moon. He narrowed his red eyes.

The Varden was going to pay dearly for this.

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Ah, so this is the first chapter. Just a sample of what this story is going to be like. It'll stop after I read Brisingr (I'm planning to write another continuation, after all). But once I'm done this will probably be the priority.

Please tell me what you think.


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